


I Love Him so Fucking Much it Hurts

by celt_the_flame_3110



Series: The Marching Band AU 'verse [3]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Marching Band, But it's there, Caring Eddie Kaspbrak, Caring Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak & Beverly Marsh Are Best Friends, Eddie Kaspbrak Has a Crush, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, High School, Homophobia, Idiots in Love, M/M, Marching Band, Massage, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Protective Richie Tozier, Rated T for Trashmouth, Richie Tozier & Stanley Uris Are Best Friends, Richie Tozier Has a Crush, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Slurs, Swearing, Teen Angst, Wordcount: 5.000-10.000, like a single slur, they're so stupid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:42:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22359682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celt_the_flame_3110/pseuds/celt_the_flame_3110
Summary: “Kaspbrak, you can empty the trash cans and replace the garbage bags.”Eddie’s mouth suddenly felt dry and he didn’t hear Mr. Frost as he gave the rest of the Freshmen jobs.He couldn’t believe he would be assigned to touch bags of trash that were full of dripping soda cans, greasy paper plates, sticky candy wrappers, and crumpled up napkins. Not only were those bags going to be full of partially eaten food but the cans and napkins were going to have traces of saliva on them. He was going to have to-OREddie is assigned to take out trash at a band competition and Richie helps him through it.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough/Stanley Uris, Eddie Kaspbrak & Beverly Marsh, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Richie Tozier & Stanley Uris
Series: The Marching Band AU 'verse [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1590559
Comments: 6
Kudos: 98





	I Love Him so Fucking Much it Hurts

**Author's Note:**

> Woooooooo part 3!! I'm not entirely sure why, but I totally lost the motivation to finish this at some point lol. I'm not giving up on the series. My motivation was just... gone for, like, three days. It was weird.
> 
> Also, warning for a homophobic slur. There's only one, but I just thought I should say it's there. Do I warn you guys about too many things. Like lmk because idk if I do or not.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy the fic!

“Tozier, Kaspbrak. Do you two have jobs yet?”

“No sir.”

Richie, Eddie, and the rest of the losers were standing with the other freshman marching band members. The band was getting ready for the competition they were hosting at Derry High School. The seniors, juniors, and sophomores were already given jobs and then sent back to lunch. Finally, it was their turn to get their assignments. 

Usually the seniors and juniors were given the better, more fun jobs; While the sophomores and freshmen were given the more boring and tedious ones. 

“Tozier, can you carry heavy objects?” Mr. Frost asked.

“Yes sir.” Richie responded.

“Then you can refill the water jugs and take them to the water table.”

While working at the water table and having to give water to band members before they had to go on the field wasn’t necessarily an undesirable job, having to haul heavy jugs full of water back to said water table _was._

Richie, not wanting to give Mr. Frost any further reason to despise him, replied with, “Yes sir.”

“Kaspbrak, you can empty the trash cans and replace the garbage bags.”

Eddie’s mouth suddenly felt dry and he didn’t hear Mr. Frost as he gave the rest of the Freshmen jobs.

He couldn’t believe he would be assigned to touch bags of trash that were full of dripping soda cans, greasy paper plates, sticky candy wrappers, and crumpled up napkins. Not only were those bags going to be full of partially eaten food but the cans and napkins were going to have traces of saliva on them. He was going to have to-

“-ddie. Eds.” Richie was saying.

Eddie snapped out of his daze and asked, “Huh?”

“We gotta go.” Richie said, gesturing to the now empty band room.

Eddie nodded weakly and followed Richie to the cafeteria. 

***

“Ben, sweetie?”

“Hmmm?”

Richie, Eddie, Ben, and Beverly were in English class. They were assigned to write a poem, not a specific kind or about any specific topic, and Ben looked like he was struggling. 

“Having trouble?” Beverly asked, gently placing a hand on his leg.

“Yeah...” Ben sighed, putting his pencil down.

“Do you have any ideas yet?” she asked. 

“No, not really.” 

“Do you think hearing our ideas would help you get inspiration?” 

Ben considered this and nodded, “Only if you’re comfortable with sharing them.”

“I am.” Beverly confirmed. “I’m writing a sonnet about playing in the Barrens when we were younger. Not too creative, but it’s something.”

“That sounds cool.” Eddie said, finally focusing in on the current conversation. “Mine is a poem in free verse about wanting to be in battery percussion instead of pit.”

“That’s interesting,” Ben said, smiling kindly. “What’s yours about, Richie?”

“It’s a limerick about my dick.” Richie answered with a broad grin.

Ben blushed a deep red and Beverly giggled.

“I don’t think Mrs. Schmitt would appreciate that.” Beverly said, trying to hold back any remaining laughter.

“She would if she had a chance with it.” Richie quipped.

Ben looked even more uncomfortable and Beverly rolled her eyes fondly. 

The only person who didn’t react was the _one_ person Richie was hoping to get a reaction out of.

“Sorry, Haystack,” Richie apologized with a sheepish smile. “You kind of look like you want to die.”

“It’s okay Rich,” Ben said with a small smile. “I should’ve expected that to be your poem topic, to be honest.”

Ben and Beverly soon became engrossed in their own conversation.

Eddie barely had anything written down, staring blankly at the garbage can that sat at the far end of the room. He tapped his foot nervously, imperceptibly to everyone but Richie. It wasn’t loud tapping but Richie, who sat right next to Eddie, could hear it. It was about to drive him insane.

“Yo, Ed Spaghett.”

“Hm?”

“You stuck on the first stanza?”

They spoke quietly so the other two losers didn’t notice. They were trying to write their own poems, so they hadn’t noticed Eddie’s unusual quietness. 

“I’ll figure it out. I’m just stuck.” Eddie mumbled.

“You should probably try to finish it,” Richie suggested. “It’s next week and this is the only day we have to work on it in class. You probably don’t want any extra homework.

 _I’m starting to sound like Eddie,_ he thought.

Eddie just shrugged in response.

“Eds, are you okay?” Richie asked.

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure?”

 _“Yes,_ Richie.” Eddie grumbled.

“Eddie, look at me.”

Eddie’s head snapped to glare daggers at Richie. It would’ve been cute, had he not been so obviously upset about something.

“If you’re upset about something and don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine.” Richie said gently. “Just say you don’t want to talk about it. Then I’ll leave you alone. I just don’t want you to tell me you’re ‘okay’ when you aren’t.”

Eddie’s gaze immediately softened at Richie basically quoting him. It even seemed that Eddie was looking at Richie with adoration. 

Richie mentally shook that notion as he steadily held Eddie’s gaze.

Eddie sighed and admitted, “It’s the fucking job Mr. Dickwad gave me.”

Richie let out a surprised laugh at the name calling. Eddie didn’t even seem annoyed at his friend’s laughter, he just seemed disheartened at the thought of having to handle trash.

Richie quickly calmed down and said, “Yeah, I figured that’s what it was. I would’ve offered to switch with you but it doesn’t seem like you can carry water jugs twice your body weight.”

When Eddie glared at him Richie amended, “I’m not trying to be a dick. Those water jugs are _heavy_ and I think you would need help carrying them. Also, I don’t think Mr. High-and-Mighty would like having his righteous judgement questioned.”

Eddie giggled at Richie’s bitterness and Richie smiled.

 _I could listen to that melodious laugh all day long,_ he thought dumbly.

“You’d think I’d be better by now,” Eddie said, suddenly serious. “After all this time I’m _still_ terrified of germs and disease.”

“‘After all this time?’ Dude, you’ve only been working on it for, like, a year or something. Give yourself some credit, you’re better than you were.”

After a year of attending therapy, without his mom’s knowledge, Eddie _had_ improved. He was no longer washing his hands and sanitizing excessively. He no longer cringed when someone coughed or sneezed. He could even stand to be in the same room as someone who had a cold. However, the prospect of touching a bag full of trash seemed to freak him out.

“Yeah, but it’s still pretty bad.” Eddie sighed.

“You’re better than you were,” Richie repeated. “You’ll get even better overtime. Just be patient with yourself and be proud of the progress you’ve already made.”

Eddie just nodded in response.

“So, do you have a plan?” Richie asked.

“A plan for what?”

“Doing the job you were given. You still have to be on trash duty. So, we’re just going to have to find out how you can deal with it.”

Eddie shrugged and said, “I guess I’ll just suck it up and do it.”

“What?” Richie asked in disbelief. “Dude, no. You’re better than you were but that doesn’t mean you can face this without any precautions. A couple of weeks ago, I told you a kid that lived on my street was sick with the flu. You didn’t come within three feet of me for _days._ The kid lived on the opposite end of the street. There are _five houses_ between ours. We don’t even live on the _same side_ of the street.”

Eddie’s eyes enlarged at the memory. “You’re right, maybe this is going to be harder than I thought.”

“So what precautions are you going to take, Eddie Macaroni?”

“Are you just combining random pastas with my name now?” Eddie asked incredulously.

Before Richie could answer, Eddie cut him off, “Not the point. The point is, I don’t know what precautions I _can_ take. I’m stumped…”

“Seriously? You cooked up that _brilliant_ plan to get Mr. Frost to stop yelling at me within seconds of hearing what I was upset about. Now that you need to come up with a plan for yourself, you’ve got _nothing?”_

Eddie shrugged sheepishly.

“Okay, it’s cool. You came up with something for me, so now I should be able to come up with something for you. So...what about gloves?”

“Gloves?”

“Yeah. You can slip a pair of gloves on your hands to keep them from having to directly touch the trash or trash cans.”

“But then the gloves will be covered in germs. I can’t wear them for that long, knowing that they’ve touched garbage.”

“Then get a package of disposable ones. You can take the old ones off and then put new ones on before you have to touch the garbage again.”

“But I have to touch the germ infested gloves to get them off, Richie.”

“Then bring some hand sanitizer or some disinfectant spray.”

“My shorts don’t have pockets and my fanny pack’s too small. I can’t carry around a big ass can of disinfectant spray.”

At the mention of Eddie’s short running shorts, Richie’s face was set ablaze.

 _Keep it together, weirdo._ he scolded himself. _Those shorts are_ practical _and not at all hot._

“Mine do,” Richie said. “My basketball shorts have pretty big pockets. One time, I got hot and had to take off my t-shirt. I was able to roll it up and stick it in one of them. I can carry it around for you. You have to pass by the concession stand to get to the dumpster and that’s where I have to go to refill the water jugs. When I pass you by, just say the word and I’ll spray you down.”

At the mention of Richie taking his shirt off, Eddie’s face became red. Richie wasn’t entirely sure why, though. 

“Wow,” Eddie uttered. “I’m surprised you were able to think of all of that. Yeah, that works. I’ll give it to you when we get to school Saturday morning.”

“Alright, cool. Now since I helped you, I need you to help me for a second.”

“Sure thing. What do you need help with?”

Richie held Eddie’s gaze for a moment before grinning and asking, “Can you think of any words that rhyme with ‘dick’ besides ‘sick?’”

Eddie giggled and it warmed Richie’s heart.

“Ummm...quick?” Eddie offered.

“Bingo! Thanks, Eds!” 

Richie went back to completing his limerick and he could’ve sworn he saw Eddie looking at him and smiling. He must be imagining things today…

***

“So he said he’d carry it around for you?” Beverly asked, polishing her flute.

“Yeah,” Eddie replied, holding a can of citrus disinfectant. “He’s such a good friend.”

There was a pause.

“Do you like him, Eds?” Beverly asked tentatively

_Shit…_

“Of course I like him, Bev,” Eddie said, laughing nervously. “He’s my friend. Do _you_ like him?”

“That’s not what I meant.” Beverly sighed. “I mean, would you date him?”

Eddie stared at Beverly blankly, panic rising in his chest.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me,” Beverly reassured him, putting down the rag she was using. “Eddie, I love you as much as someone can love a person without it being romantic. You’re my best friend and I’ll always love you no matter what. Anything you tell me stays between us, even if you murdered someone. I will _literally_ help you bury the body and hide any remaining evidence.”

Eddie giggled and Beverly beamed.

Eddie glanced around the band room, making sure nobody was eavesdropping.

Then, in a low voice, Eddie admitted, “I _do_ want to date him.”

Beverly gasped excitedly and Eddie looked at her with horrified eyes.

“Relax man,” Beverly calmed. “I’m not going to tell anyone, especially him. I’m just excited you’re _finally_ interested in someone.”

“If only that someone were interested in me…” Eddie murmured.

Beverly closed her flute case and wrapped an arm around Eddie’s shoulders. 

“I’m sure he _is_ interested,” Beverly assured. “Do you see the way he blushes when he’s around you? He checks you out when you bend over in your shorts. He tries not to be obvious about it, but he doesn’t do a good job of being discreet.”

“There is _no way_ he does. I’m always blushing around _him.”_

“He _totally_ does and it’s, like, _super_ obvious too. You two blush around each other constantly, so that's a good thing. It seems like a pretty sure sign to me that he likes you back.

Eddie sighed dejectedly and mumbled, “What if _doesn’t,_ though?”

“Honestly, I love Richie. But if he isn’t interested, he’s not worth your time. Maybe you’ll meet some hot guy from another school at a band competition.”

“If you think I would even consider dating one of our _rivals,_ you’re _insane.”_

Beverly giggled and squeezed Eddie in a bone crushing hug. Eddie _loved_ getting his bones crushed by her.

***

“Yo, Eds. I’m here.”

Richie walked up to Eddie after entering the band room. They still had a couple of hours before the competition started but Richie had to go get the water jugs to fill them.

“Hey Rich,” Eddie greeted, handing Richie the disinfectant. “Thanks for helping me with this.”

“Anytime, man,” Richie assured him. “Do you have your gloves?”

Eddie nodded, pointing to his fanny pack.

“Alight, awesome.” Richie said.

“I kind of feel bad that I’m making you do this. It’s okay if you decide that you don’t want to deal with it. I understand this is kind of an inconvenience and-”

“Eds, it’s fine. I can carry it. I’m just worried that we won’t cross each other’s paths often enough, that’s all. You might have to come find me if I don’t see you. I’ll come to you if I’m not busy. We aren’t going to be swamped the entire time, so we can make it work.”

Eddie nodded, smiling at Richie gratefully. It was a beautiful smile, his teeth sparkling white and his eyes crinkled around the edges. 

_I would literally give him the fucking sun if I could see that smile more often._ he thought dreamily.

“Well, I’ve gotta go get the trash bags and junk,” Eddie said. “I’ll see you later.”

“See ya, spaghetti.”

Eddie left and Richie was standing in the band room with a few other band kids.

Richie glanced up to see Beverly smiling at him from across the room. Her eyes enlarged when she saw he noticed her and she gave him a small wave. Richie waved back, wondering why she was staring at him.

Then Richie saw Stan. Stan was studying him with his cold, calculating eyes. Richie smiled at his friend but he never returned it, still staring. Richie awkwardly did finger guns before backing out of the open door.

He walked from the band room down the hallway to the closet where the water jugs were kept. He swung the door open and grabbed one of the orange jugs, now empty and pretty lightweight. He glanced to the side and saw Stan stop right next to him.

“You like Eddie.” Stan stated, not phrasing it as a question.

_Fuck._

“Yeah, Standrew,” Richie laughed. “He’s my friend, _obviously_ I like him.”

“Not what I meant,” Stan shook his head. “You have a crush on him.”

Richie felt his stomach drop and he felt his heartbeat in his ears.

“I-I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Richie stammered.

“Rich, relax. I’m not going to tell anyone. I know what it’s like to have a crush on a boy and not want anyone to know. I’ve been there. I won’t tell anyone if you don’t want me to, not even Bill. Just don’t lie to me or, if you’re going to, at least do it well so I don’t _know_ you’re lying to me.”

Richie felt hot tears trail down his face.

Stan looked at him sympathetically and immediately pulled him into a hug. Even though Stan wasn’t an emotional person, he gave really good hugs. 

Richie didn’t start sobbing like he did in front of Eddie that one day at practice _(that_ was embarrassing…) but he buried his face in Stan’s neck and took deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. Stan didn’t say anything, he just gently ran a hand up and down Richie’s back, waiting for him to be okay again.

When Richie was done crying, they pulled away. Stan looked at him with kind eyes.

“So, you _do_ have a crush on him.” Stan mused with a small smile.

When Richie scanned the area to see that nobody else was present he gave a small but clear nod, still too afraid to admit it aloud.

“Your secret’s safe with me.” Stan assured him.

“Really?” Richie asked, relieved.

“Yeah,” Stan said incredulously. “I’ve agreed to take _many_ of your secrets to my grave. Some of which, I probably _shouldn’t_ have agreed to.”

“A fair point. So… you don’t see me any differently than you did before?”

“I still see you as an annoying asshole who makes severely unfunny jokes and wants to fuck his crush’s mom.” Stan deadpanned.

Richie cackled, “Sweet! You _don’t_ see me any differently!”

Stan smiled. “Also, I don’t believe this love is unrequited.”

Richie paused. “Huh?”

“I think Eddie has a crush on you too, dumbass.”

Richie scoffed. “There is _no way_ Eddie Kaspbrak has a crush on _me!”_

“Oh, he does. If you saw the way he looks at you and blushes when you’re in his general vicinity, you’d realize it too.”

Richie stared at him blankly.

There is _no way_ Eddie fucking Kaspbrak would _ever_ like Richie back. Eddie was an intelligent, adorable, sweet, feisty ball of fire. Richie is lucky to be able to walk on the same _ground_ as him, but _dating_ him? Ha! What a joke!

“Well,” Stan said fondly. “If you want to gossip to anyone about your crush, I’m always available. Have fun on water jug duty.”

With that, Stan spun around and walked away. Richie stared after him in confusion, wondering how he ever found out Richie liked Eddie. Well, Stan was a smart one.

Richie hoisted the water jug onto his shoulder and left to fill it up.

***

When the competition kicked off, all of the band kids were busy. There weren’t very many jobs to do but since Derry was a small town, with a small high school and an even smaller marching band, all of the band kids were busy with something.

Mike’s job was to open the gate so the bands that were about to perform could march through. Bill and Stan were tasked with running miscellaneous errands that Mr. Frost or any of the adults asked them to; Those poor guys hardly got a moment to sit down. Beverly and Ben were working in the concession stand. Their job was to hand frozen food to adults that needed cooked and to give food and drinks to the people that ordered them.

Richie stood near the water table, waiting for the water jugs to become empty. Eddie sat in the bleachers, waiting for the trash cans to become full. 

Eddie nervously drummed his fingers on his knees, his stomach in knots and his palms sweaty under the latex gloves. His anxiety increased every time someone threw away a cup or plate, the inevitable drawing closer. 

When one of the trash cans were full, Eddie walked over to it and pulled the bag out. He tied the open end shut and put a new bag in its place. He took the full bag to the dumpster, holding it as far from his body as his arm would allow.

When he made it to the dumpster, he had to hold his breath due to the smell, he threw the garbage bag in. He took the old gloves off and tossed them in too. He could feel the germs and bacteria crawling on his hands from where he touched them.

On his way back to the stadium, he saw Richie at the concession stand filling one of the water jugs. 

“Hey Rich,” Eddie stage whispered. “Spray me.”

Richie looked up and nodded, screwing the lid back onto the full jug. He walked over to where Eddie was, uncapping the disinfectant. Eddie held his arms out as if he were a scarecrow and Richie sprayed both arms thoroughly. Eddie _finally_ felt like he could breathe normally again. Unfortunately, that ability to breathe was again seized while he was in Richie’s presence.

“Thanks,” Eddie said. “How’s your job going?”

“No problem,” Richie responded. “It’s going fine. This is the first empty jug, things are just getting started.”

Richie picked up the full water jug like it barely weighed anything. Eddie wondered how those strong arms would feel, holding him tightly as he drifted off to sleep. Well, his bed would _definitely_ feel cold and lonely tonight…

“I’ve gotta bring this back to them,” Richie said. “I’ll see you later. If you don’t see me around here, come find me around the water table when you need sprayed again.”

“Sure thing,” Eddie said with a smile. “I’ll see you later. Time to go take out more trash.”

“I’d be _honored_ to go on a date with you,” Richie quipped. “Unfortunately, I’m busy tonight.”

Even though it was _obviously_ a self deprecating joke, the thought of taking Richie out on a date make Eddie’s heart flutter.

Eddie laughed, awkwardly clapping a hand on Richie’s shoulder. Then Eddie walked away, internally kicking himself for that. Richie probably thinks he’s such an idiot…

***

Richie’s shoulder still felt warm from where Eddie touched it. Richie was still cringing about that dumb joke he made. Even though he made dumb jokes all the time, this one was too close to revealing his feelings. Thankfully, Eddie seemed to think it was funny.

Richie returned to the water station with the full jug, sitting it on the table.

The front ensemble section leader, Heather Johnson, looked at Richie apologetically.

“Is another one empty?” Richie asked quietly.

They didn’t have to whisper but, since a band was currently performing, they had to keep their voices down.

She let out a regretful sigh. “Yeah. I’m sorry, Richie. I would have given it to you before you left but I didn’t realize it was empty until you were gone.”

“It’s cool,” Richie shrugged, picking up the second of the three jugs. “I can probably only lift one at a time anyway.”

“Didn’t realize you were so weak, Tozier.” Robert Goodwin joked.

Robert was the battery percussion section leader. He and Heather were both juniors that year. Usually seniors were section leaders but, since there weren’t any seniors in either section, they got the position. 

Robert and Richie were on okay terms most of the time. He seemed fine during practice and he would make dirty jokes with the rest of the battery, something Richie had no problem getting behind. Sometimes, though, Robert would say something that made Richie mad. Usually they were snide comments directed towards Eddie, mostly about his clothing. They weren’t that bad, though. The worst was, “Look at those fucking dumb shorts.” 

While Richie loved those shorts and never thought they looked even remotely dumb, it didn’t seem worth putting up a fight over. Getting in a fight with a section leader was a sure fire way of angering the band director, so Richie never said anything.

“Bobert,” Richie said lightly. “This is a ten gallon jug. It weighs around eighty three pounds when full.”

Robert squinted. “How do you know that?”

“Eddie looked it up for me.” Richie answered. “I was curious so I asked him to research it for me, since I’m too lazy to do it myself. Apparently a gallon of water weighs a little over eight pounds.”

Robert smiled. “Oh, you mean that little flamer who’s in the pit?”

Heather looked at him with a disapproving look and was about to say something, but Richie beat her to it.

 _“What_ did you just call my friend?”

Robert’s smile faded and his eyes widened at Richie’s sudden anger. “Bro, it was just a joke. Chill out.”

Richie laughed without any humor. “Yeah, because it’s _sooooo_ funny calling someone a slur. What a _hilarious_ joke. What a _fucking_ knee-slapper. What are you going to do next, call Mike the n-word? I’m sure he’ll find it funny. Go ahead, try and see what happens.”

Robert took a step back from Richie. “Woah! Chill, man. It was just a joke. Why are you being so defensive?”

“Well, Eddie’s not here to defend himself. So _someone_ has to do it in his stead. If you want to make jokes about Eddie’s shorts, his noodle arms, his fanny pack, or his mom go ahead. I joke about that shit all the time, usually to his face. As long as your jokes don’t have the capacity to hurt others, go ahead and make them. Let me tell you one thing. I’ll be _damned_ if I let you make jokes like _that_ about _any_ of my friends, especially Eddie Kaspbrak!”

“Richie,” Stan said. “Are you okay?”

Stan and Bill brought more cups to the water table while Richie was ranting. Thankfully another band wasn’t coming for a few more minutes, so they and Heather were the only ones to witness this whole thing.

“Not really,” Richie grumbled, not breaking eye contact with Robert. “Robert, next time you think of saying something as _hateful_ as that, keep it to your fucking self. _I_ sure as hell don’t want to hear it, and I doubt anyone else does either.”

When Richie realized he had dropped the jug, he picked it back up and left to refill it.

***

Eddie had just thrown another bag and another pair of gloves into the dumpster. His skin prickled with the feeling of germs on it and he hoped he would be able to find Richie soon. He rounded the corner and saw Richie filling up a water jug. Richie’s brows were furrowed and his lip was pressed into a tight line. This wasn’t a concentrated expression, but an angry one.

“Rich?”

Richie looked up, his gaze softened when he saw who it was. “Hey Eds. Do you need sprayed?”

Eddie nodded and Richie shut the water off before capping the jug. He sprayed Eddie’s arms down just like he did the first time. 

“Are you okay?” Eddie asked when Richie was done.

Richie shrugged. “I mean, I guess. I’m kind of mad, though.”

“At who?” Eddie asked nervously.

“Not you or any of the other losers. Just someone else in the band.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Richie considered before shaking his head. “I’ll get over it in a few. It wasn’t a big deal. I don’t really have much to talk about.”

“It’s a big deal if it bothers you.”

“Eds, it’s fine. I’ll be fine. Just get back to your job. I have to get this to them.” He gestured to the jug on the ground.

Eddie really wanted to coax the problem out of Richie, but he finally nodded before jogging away.

When he made it to the bleachers, he sat down. Eddie was worried about Richie. Richie was normally so easygoing, it was hard to get him legitimately mad. Eddie decided not to worry about it and to focus on doing his job.

***

Richie was about to pick the jug up when he heard someone clear their throat behind him. He turned to see Stan and Bill standing there.

“Rich, I need to talk to you.” Stan said.

Richie shook his head. “I’ve gotta get this back to the table.”

“I’ve got it,” Bill said, picking the jug up. “W-we’re not b-busy. I’ll c-c-cover for you while you t-talk to Stan.”

“Cover for me? Bill, no. Let me do my job, You guys need to rest. You’ve been on your feet all day.”

“And you haven’t?” Stan asked. “The faster we talk, the faster you can get back to you job.”

Richie sighed. “Fine, but we have to make it quick.”

“It will be.” Stan turned to Bill. “I love you, darling.”

Bill smiled. “I love you t-too, sweetie.”

Bill kissed Stan on the cheek before leaving for the water table. Richie’s heart ached at seeing his friends being cute together. It reminded him of what he could have with Eddie, if Eddie actually liked him back.

Stan led Richie to behind the dumpster. 

“Rich, what _happened_ back there? Why were you picking a fight with a _section leader?”_

Richie sighed. “He made a comment that pissed me off.”

Stan glared. “‘A comment?’ A _single_ comment got you _that_ mad? What the fuck did he say?”

Richie didn’t want to tell anyone about this, especially not Eddie. Since Stan didn’t seem like he would take no for an answer, Richie recounted the events to him. Thankfully, they could make as much noise as they wanted to as long as it wasn’t screaming. So Richie used any remaining angry adrenaline to raise the volume of his voice.

“Damn,” Stan said. “That’s a lot. Listen, I know you care about Eddie and I’m proud of you for standing up for him. Even so, you need to be careful. Even though Eddie was able to get some of Mr. Frost’s attention off of you, Mr. Frost _hates_ you. Going off on a section leader like that is a good way to get kicked out of band. Next time something like this happens, you need to control your temper and not yell at the other person. ”

Richie sighed. “I _know_ it was a dumb thing to do. If he had made a comment like that towards _anyone else,_ even if it was one of the other losers, I would’ve been able to control myself. If I even said anything at all, I would’ve been able to control my anger. When it comes to _him_ though? I can’t. I love him, Stan. I love him so fucking much it hurts. When someone insults him like that, I can’t help what comes out of my mouth. I have a hard enough time controlling my trashmouth at the best of times. When I get that mad, though, I can’t put a filter on it to save my life.”

Stan looked at Richie with sympathy in his eyes. “I _know_ you love him. I really _am_ proud of you for fighting against the blatant homophobia. You did a good thing, I’m not trying to dismiss that. I just don’t want you to get kicked out. You love marching band and we love having you in it. I’m not going to tell you what to do. I’m just going to tell you to be careful, if you can’t bite your tongue. Okay?”

Richie nodded and Stan pulled him into a quick hug. 

When they let go, Richie smiled. “You said you love me, nerd.”

“I said I loved having you in band. Not that I loved _you,_ dumbass.”

Richie laughed and Stan admitted, “I do love you, though, in all seriousness. The only person I love more than you is Bill.”

“Well, I guess I’ll have to have intense make out sessions with you.”

Stan pantomimed trying not to vomit and Richie cackled.

“We better get back to it.” Richie said.

Stan nodded and they walked out from behind the dumpster. They saw Eddie wincing while pulling his gloves off and tossing them in. Richie’s heart picked up speed.

_Shit._

“Hey Eddie.” Stan said as he walked past. 

“Hey, Stan.” Eddie returned. 

Richie slid the can of disinfectant out of his pocket and sprayed Eddie down for the third time that day.

“What were you guys doing behind the dumpster?” Eddie asked.

Richie shrugged. “Just talking. You didn’t hear any of it, did you?”

Eddie shook his head.

Richie exhaled in relief. “Good, it was uh… kind of private.”

Eddie nodded, seeming to understand.

“I’ve gotta go. See ya in a few, Eduardo.”

Eddie smiled. “See ya, Ricardo.” 

Richie let out a delighted laugh at Eddie using a bad nickname for him and Eddie walked away.

***

Richie sat on his bed and winced.

“You okay, Rich?” Eddie asked, concerned.

They just made it to Richie’s house after the competition. Eddie was planning on staying here for the night.

“Yeah, my back just hurts.” Richie responded.

“From carrying the jugs?”

Richie nodded, placing a hand on his lower back.

“I might be able to fix that for you.”

Eddie walked over to Richie’s desk and grabbed the bottle of lotion off of it. Richie grimaced but not from pain.

“Eds, I don’t think you want to use tha-”

“Yes, Richie.” Eddie groaned. “I’m well aware that you jerk off. I also figured that’s why you have this in the first place. I don’t care. I’m still using it.”

Richie cleared his throat. “What are you going to use it for?”

Eddie climbed into Richie’s bed and sat behind him. “I’m massaging your shoulders and back.”

“You don’t have to-”

“I’m aware that I don’t _have_ to, but I want to. I hate seeing you in pain and I want to make it better. Since you helped me earlier, I want to help you.” He paused for a beat. “Also, I don’t want to hear you bitching all night. I want to get a good night’s sleep.”

Richie snorted and Eddie smiled, glad he got Richie to laugh.

“Take your shirt off.” Eddie said.

Richie did as he was told and sat his shirt down beside him. 

Eddie squeezed some lotion onto his palms before rubbing them together, trying to warm everything up. Eddie started kneading Richie’s shoulder and neck muscles.

Richie groaned. “That feels nice.”

“Yeah, that’s kind of the point.”

Richie just let out a small laugh before leaning back into Eddie’s touch. 

Richie was remarkably quiet throughout the whole thing, save for the happy noises he made every now and then. Since Richie couldn’t see him, Eddie smiled while he massaged his friend. 

When Eddie took that specific bag of trash to the dumpster, he heard Richie and Stan’s conversation. The fact that Richie would pick a fight with a section leader and risk getting in trouble for _him_ made Eddie’s heart flutter. The fact that Richie said he _loved_ Eddie made his heart swell. Eddie loved Richie too… but probably not in the same way.

Eddie loved Richie so much that he thought about holding his hand, kissing him, and cuddling with him on cold nights. Eddie loved Richie so much that he would fight a legion of soldiers in his honor. Eddie loved Richie so much he wanted to _marry_ him some day.

Unfortunately, even though Richie said he _loved_ him, it was most likely a platonic love. A love that friends shared, not a love shared by lovers. Hell, Richie had said he loved Eddie before and _that_ was obviously platonic.

So Eddie would continue to love Richie, even if those exact feelings weren't reciprocated. Eddie would wait patiently until he _knew_ Richie loved him back in the same way. Eddie would be content just being friends with the boy in front of him. Eddie would wait until his dying breath if he had to, but he would wait. 

**Author's Note:**

> I am, like, so sorry. I feel like I frustrated some of you with how dumb these two are. I apologize dearly. THEY GET TOGETHER AT SOME POINT, I PROMISE. Also, Stan and Beverly are really good best friends. I will stand by this until the day I die. 
> 
> Also, why am I tempted to write Richie's limerick? I think the only thing stopping me is the fact that I'm bad at poetry. I might take a crack at it in the next part, idk. 
> 
> Also, I created a Tumblr yesterday. I haven't posted anything yet and I'm not sure how active I'll be, but if you wanna follow me my url is celt-the-flame-3110 I had to use dashes because, for some baffling reason, Tumblr said "You will NOT come into my house and use UNDERSCORES!"
> 
> I think that's all I have to say. Have a fantastic day!


End file.
